


spark to a flame

by gothyringwald



Series: gothy's harringrove week of love fics [2]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fireworks, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Holding Hands, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-26 19:50:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17752367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothyringwald/pseuds/gothyringwald
Summary: Billy's stomach swoops. He can't believe he's holding hands with Steve Harrington, watching fireworks over the quarry. It's so stupid and girly and...and...fuckingromantic.





	spark to a flame

**Author's Note:**

> This is at least the 3rd version of this fic! But I'm finally happy with it :) and it comes complete with an illustration from yours truly, too
> 
> For the week of love prompt 'holding hands'
> 
> Also, I have a skin applied to the work so the image will scale to your screen but you may or may not have to hit the 'show creator's style' (or something like that) button for it to work depending on which boxes you ticked in your preferences???

The Roman candle fizzes, shooting sparks of gold and red and pink into the inky night over the quarry as Billy holds it high above his head. A stray spark lands on his hand but it's only a small one. It doesn't burn much. The whisky he's been drinking—half-empty bottle by his feet—dulls it too.

'You're meant to stick them in the ground,' comes a voice from behind him.

Billy doesn't have to turn around to know it's Steve Harrington, but he does. Steve is watching Billy, hands on his hips, the hint of an amused smile playing on his mouth. Gold light paints his face and Billy's breath catches. He stays silent.

'You know, for safety,' Steve says.

'Huh?'

'You stick them in the ground to be safe,' Steve says, one brow raised. 'The fireworks,' he adds, pointing.

'Right,' Billy says, and licks his lips. He fixes his face into a sneer. 'Gonna go tattle on me?'

Steve snorts. 'Nope,' he says, and moves closer to Billy, close enough that Billy could touch him if he wanted. He sinks down and Billy's brain stutters. But Steve only grabs the bottle of whisky and straightens up again. He unscrews the lid, takes a long pull, eyes never leaving Billy.

The Roman candle sputters out.

Billy holds it a moment longer, hand grasped tight around the stick, eyes adjusting to the light of the moon. He blinks, shakes himself, and pitches the stick out over the quarry.

'Got any cherry bombs?' Steve asks, still holding the bottle.

'They're illegal,' Billy says, carefully.

'That's not what I asked.'

Billy looks at Steve, considering. There's been a truce between them but it's mostly consisted of staying out of each other's way, pretending the other doesn't exist but still staring just a little too long. Sometimes, Billy thinks he sees something in the way Steve looks at him that feels like what surges up inside of him when he looks at Steve. 

He swallows and nods at the bag a few feet away. 'Got one in there.'

The smile that's been teasing at Steve's lips finally breaks out and he shoves the bottle of whisky into Billy's chest, leaving him feeling wrong-footed.

'Holy shit,' Steve says, 'you've got enough fireworks for ten fourths of July.' He's digging through the bag, a small frown creasing his brow, until it clears and a triumphant gleam comes into his eyes. He looks up at Billy, holding the cherry bomb in his palm, and says, 'Got a light?'

Billy moves over to Steve and swipes the cherry bomb from him, the tips of his fingers grazing Steve's calloused palm. 'There's no way I'm letting you set this off,' Billy says. 

Steve shrugs and sinks his hands into his pockets. 'Where'd you get 'em, anyway?'

Billy digs through his pocket for his lighter, looking sidelong at Steve. 'I know a guy.'

'You know a fireworks guy?' Steve asks, laughter in his voice, in his eyes.

It's Billy's turn to shrug, now, and he turns his face from Steve so he won't see the smile that's threatening to break forth. How does Steve always do this to him? 

He gets his lighter out, flicks it open, and lets the flame lick the fuse. It catches and he drops the cherry bomb. He watches the fire eat the fuse and then, seconds before it reaches the cracker, there is a warm pressure around his wrist and he's being pulled back.

'Don't stand so close,' Steve yells over the report.

Billy's heart thunders. 'Aww, were you worried?'

'I just don't want to drag your ass to the hospital,' Steve says, voice harsh in the deafening silence. His fingers are still around Billy's wrist. They burn as hot as the flame that had consumed the fuse.

'OK,' is all Billy can manage to say with the weight of Steve's fingers holding onto him. He looks down to where their arms hang between them.

Steve follows his gaze and, for a moment, Billy thinks he's going to pull away, drop his hand. But, instead, he lets his hand slide down Billy's wrist, tangles their fingers together. His hand is warm and a little rough where it's calloused but mostly soft. 

Billy doesn't know what he should do, if he should say something. He should probably pull away but he doesn't want to. So, he doesn't. Instead, he squeezes Steve's hand, and something inside him sparks when Steve squeezes back.

'Wanna light another one?' Steve asks. 

'Yeah,' Billy says, 'I do.'

They set off ground spinners and bottle rockets and Roman candles, their laughter drowned out by the squeal and hiss of the fireworks. Their hands stay entwined the whole time, even though it makes lighting the crackers awkward. Billy hasn't felt this free in longer than he can remember and he doesn't want to let go. 

'Man, I haven't done this since I was a kid,' Steve says, eyes bright with boyish delight. 'What's next?'

'This,' Billy says, nudging a fountain with his toe. 'I was saving it for last, I guess.' It's the biggest one he could get, but it'll probably only last a minute. One minute more with Steve won't be enough but it's something.

'Do you wanna do the honours, or should I?' Steve asks, flicking the lighter open and closed in his free hand.

The acrid scent of gunpowder tickles Billy's nose as he draws in a breath. 'You can,' he says.

Steve smiles and lights the fuse. He pulls Billy back to a safe distance, watching the sparks shooting up from the fountain. Coloured lights cascade like bubbling water, bright against the backdrop of the dark quarry. They reflect in Steve's eyes like millions of stars, crackling and popping.

Billy's stomach swoops. He can't believe he's holding hands with Steve Harrington, watching fireworks over the quarry. It's so stupid and girly and...and...fucking _romantic_. Fuck.

'We should do this again sometime,' Steve says. 'Not the fireworks,' he adds, tugging on Billy's hand, as if to emphasise what he does mean.

'Yeah,' Billy says, 'that could be cool.' They haven't even kissed but he feels breathless.

Steve smiles and then he ducks his head and chuckles. 

For a moment Billy thinks that maybe this was all a joke. That Tommy, or someone else, is hiding somewhere watching him make a fucking idiot of himself. His stomach turns. 'What?' A little too sharp.

'I was thinking how in old movies there would be fireworks instead of a love scene.' 

Billy exhales. 'If this'—he swings their hands—'is your idea of a love scene, then the rumours about you have been greatly exaggerated.' His thumb is rubbing over the back of Steve's hand and there is a sly grin on his face but his heart is thumping hard.

Steve throws his head back and laughs. His face is flushed and his eyes shine and Billy isn't sure he's ever seen Steve like this. Not when he's around Billy, anyway. 

Steve leans in close, lips brushing Billy's ear, and says, 'They're not.'

Billy swallows thickly. 'That a threat or a promise?'

Steve turns Billy's head with his other hand, so they're facing each other. Their lips brush, the hint of a kiss turning Billy on more than it probably should. Steve bumps his nose against Billy's, and says, 'It might be both,' before he closes the distance between them.

The fountain has gone out but Billy feels like he's on fire.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :) I always appreciate your comments/kudos and feel free to come find me on tumblr [@gothyringwald](https://gothyringwald.tumblr.com/) if you wish :) I have the image [posted over there](https://gothyringwald.tumblr.com/post/182769376395/spark-to-a-flame-billys-stomach-swoops-he-cant), too
> 
> I now know more about fireworks laws in the US than I ever thought I would ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Also, the fireworks in the illustration are clearly not the kind they set off but, you know, artistic license ;)


End file.
